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Sunday, November 19, 2017

'tis the season.

To everything there is a season.

I like white lights. Little white lights. Not the LED kind cause they're too blue. Small white lights. No twinkling required. I'd like them carefully wrapped around our royal palms so it looks like you're pulling into a fancy hotel. I'd like the lights also neatly attached to our roofline so the house's facade is outlined in them. The bushes should be evenly coated in white, tastefully so, of course. For the front door I prefer a full garland with gorgeous satin ribbon and the aforementioned white lights. Really anything that looks like the front of a Grandin Road or Ballard Designs catalog would be perfect. A tree should sit on either side of the front door, decorated like the garland. And a door mat, monogrammed with holiday wishes for our holiday visitors to wipe their feet on as they enter. I'd like that.

To everything there is a season.

Here's the thing. I'm not in the season of a perfectly decorated, straight off the pages of a magazine, holiday home. And I won't be for a while. A perfectly decorated home with perfectly wrapped trees and magnificent garland isn't my here and now. Know what my kids think of white lights? They think they're boring. And they're right. And thankfully their Dad knows white lights are boring and predictable. While I sit here, he's outside up on a ladder a la Clark W. Griswold Jr., creating the perfect holiday home. There are white lights and green ones and red ones. There are lights that change from red to blue to green. The lights are different sizes and won't ever blink together. A six and a half foot tall Santa will hang from a window ledge and one of those star fall shower light things will project lights all over the house. Don't forget the light up reindeer grazing off to the side. And the spot lights that will only enhance the holiday splendor that will be our home for the next month.

If it sounds amazing it's because it is. Right now Christmas is magic. It's wonder and lights and joy and fun. I have years of Christmas decorating when my kids won't look up from their phones for long enough to even appreciate the lights and I can have the catalog house. There will be so many holidays where no one gets excited for a house covered in lights (white or otherwise) and we have to drag them out to pick out the perfect tree. But right now? Right now, they want it to look like Christmas threw up on our house. And they're going to get it. Because it's a season of life; our current season. And it will be over in a blink.

While we're on the topic of seasons...

I'm also not in a season where all of my house is ever clean or neat at the same time. If the living room is clean the kitchen is a disaster. If one bathroom is clean the other has toothpaste on the mirror and is out of toilet paper.

This season 60% of my meals are eaten standing up. I'm certain this burns more calories because goodness knows I'm not eating organic, gluten free, hormone free, free range chicken over a bed of organic greens with homemade organic citrus vinaigrette for lunch. It's more like 'oh, kid 3 didn't finish that PB&J, I'll just wolf that down and chase it with a piece of cheese for added protein'.

I wear real clothes (things that have buttons) maybe twice a week in this season of life. Some of this is by choice because buttons are stupid, but also, it's hot where we live and when I'm barefoot chasing a barefoot two year old down the street, my Paige denim doesn't move like my active wear does.

I don't pee or shower alone.

I rarely read because by the time I can sit down and read I'm too tired to keep my eyes open.

My car is actually a trashcan.

If my kids get one serving of fruit and one of vegetables a day I've done a really good job.

This season we eat 80% of our meals on paper and use paper towels as napkins (don't tell me they aren't).
But this season isn't all bad. In fact it's mostly wonderful. I have big(ger) kids learning the world and a small one with a giant personality. We laugh and we play and for the most part, we are pretty care free. And also, I know it's not permanent.

I know for certain I will miss it when it's gone. I know I will long for the days where I collapse at the end of the day with Mac and cheese in my hair and can't remember when I last showered. I will pine for the days when the kids fight over who gets to sit next to me on the couch even though at least one of the three has been touching me literally all day long. And I will even miss the tantrums so epic I think our windows may shatter at the sound of the screams. So for this season, I'm embracing it and all of its un-showered, under nourished, utter chaos. And who knows, maybe I'll fall in love with the colored lights after all.